And the best is yet to come

It was a peaceful afternoon of a very hot August. I was on holiday, admiring the sea from my terrace and thinking, as usual, about my recently lost “true love”. I was the best at complaining about my exes. I was still feeling sad for the geeky guy I had been seeing five months ago, and even if it was I who had interrupted our relationship (I always put an end to love stories I consider wrong and difficult ’cause I hate dramas), I wasn't able to get him out of my head. He couldn't be my Mr. Right: he was charming, learned and witty, but not so self-assured (as the Beatles said in Help), sloppy, idle, apathetic, cynical and definitely cold. It was obviously his problem, not mine. So why was I going on overthinking everything about our past and super short relationship? Something didn't add up...

The Cheshire Cat was sitting at my right side, grinning as usual.

- "Hi! Such a long time. How have you been? Did you enjoy the quarantine? I was afraid you would reappear no more", I started.

- "Are you certain it is his problem?", asked my Cat.

- "Quite certain, indeed,” I answered firmly.

- "Once you wrote on your blog that you and I share the same soul, that I am a sort of mirror where you can better understand yourself."

- "I did. And...?"

- "Was that man your Cheshire Cat?"

I was astonished. I was talking to an empty white plastic chair. A crazy woman conversing pleasantly with imaginary friends, like John Nash did (and he was a genius after all). And my transparent friend seemed much wiser than me.

- "Look at the sea", the Cheshire Cat reappeared, "it has a perfect blue compared to the brilliant green of the trees". And he vanished again.

I was shocked by his words.

And suddenly I had an intuition. After all these months I decided to re-read my ex’s emails. He said he was in love with me since I was intelligent, funny, determined, sexy, with beautiful big eyes and because I trusted him. I had forgotten all these positive adjectives related to me; whereas in my emails I wrote that I was in love with him because he had my same character and I could deeply understand him: no positive adjectives for him, but only similiraties with me. Quite narcissistic. 

A few days before I was on the phone with my best friend Flo, telling her that I fall in love almost every time, but that I am unable to take the further step, since I realised I had never really loved anyone in my life. I knew it sounded harsh, but it was true in my opinion (not in Flo’s). I remember how Yvaine explained her idea of love in Stardust, but it is something I have never felt deep down in my heart:

You know when I said I knew little about love? That wasn't true. I know a lot about love. I've seen it, centuries and centuries of it, and it was the only thing that made watching your world bearable. All those wars. Pain, lies, hate... It made me want to turn away and never look down again. But when I see the way that mankind loves... You could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful. So yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know that it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and strangely easy to mistake for loathing, and... What I'm trying to say, Tristan is... I think I love you. Is this love, Tristan? I never imagined I'd know it for myself. My heart... It feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it's trying to escape because it doesn't belong to me any more. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I'd wish for nothing in exchange - no gifts. No goods. No demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing you loved me too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine.

So my Cheshire Cat was right: the geeky guy was the mirror which showed me my real personality. I called him a cynical cold man, but I was worse. I was too jealous, being focused only on myself. I wanted to be fully, totally, unconditonally loved by the man who happened to be my partner, but I didn't give back love to them. I gave them material things like rich and beautiful presents, or even higher things, such as honesty and respect, but never true love. And I'm sure they could feel it, even if they didn't realise it. 

I had to thank my geeky guy instead of feeling heartbroken for having lost our magic moments forever. He had just taught me a very important lesson, he had taught me the way to reverse my love life. 

I was Ebenezer Scrooge (the miser of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens), and my personal Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come was showing me how I could become in my future. But I did not want to end up like this.

Changing my character wouldn't be an easy path to follow, but I was finally ready to give it a try. And the best is yet to come.

Should I help the geeky guy to look inside himself as well?

No, maybe he wasn't so cold, maybe this was just my wrong idea about him. And more important, people must work on themeselves, not on others.

So thank you Geeky Guy for opening my heart to love; thank you My Cheshire Cat for coming back with your precious advice, at last; thank you Florence for always trusting and listening to me; and thank you all my readers for supporting me. I won't say I love you all because I'm not able to love yet 😄

Au revoir, mes amis! 😀

Just like happiness

I feel much calmer when I use the English language, when speaking, writing, reading, so I’ve decided to write this post in English because I surely need much more serenity in my life. I always feel enthusiastic for a lot of things, but in the same way I too often get depressed and after a few hours I feel happy again. I know that this may sound like the description of a borderline person with a multiple personality disorder, but I don’t care, this is me, and people usually like me just the way I am; so I don’t think I should worry for my mental illness. And I remember this funny joke I saw on the web: “my doctor asked if anyone in my family was suffering of mental illness; I said, no, we all seem to enjoy it.” So here you have my point of view.

This long introduction was needed to explain why I’m writing in English today; I just want to calm down my super enthusiastic and super pessimistic ways of seeing the world around me and of facing normal events that simply occur every now and then in my life.

I want to regain my composure and self-control, if I ever had one.

I started talking to plants a few months ago. This also relaxes me. I speak English to them as well, because I don’t want other people to understand my conversation with them, and luckily here in Italy lots of people don’t easily understand English or other foreign languages. Again, I know I might sound crazy. But Stefano Mancuso, probably the most famous plant neurobiologist ever, wouldn’t agree with you. Indeed he states that plants are intelligent, clever and they can socialise. So why not talking to them? And if it were useless and pointless, after all, who or what do I hurt with my acting so weird?

I usually tell plants about my happiness: about the librarian I met two weeks ago, who makes me feel comfortable with her smile and with her great knowledge of books (and I love so many kinds of books!); about the student who always agrees with whatever I say, who is always so kind and polite, who has unbelievably read every book we talk about, who definitely makes me feel more confident and happy to share ideas with her; and I tell plants about my dreams; about my kids; about my tiring, but wonderful job; and about that geeky guy who usually makes me laugh with his odd puns (does he really exist??).

So you see? I feel enthusiastic again, but quite calm, and without the slightest form of depression. So thank you, English language, you’ve worked again.

And thank you Stefano Mancuso for being a plant-lover and for all the books you write, especially the one I bought yesterday that is adorable!!

Au revoir, mes amis, or better say: goodbye, my friends! ;-)